Roasting Marshmallows
by nerdify
Summary: If you'd told Rose Weasley a while ago that she would be roasting marshmallows in the Slytherin common room with the son of Draco Malfoy, she would've laughed in your face and told you that you had Wrackspurts the size of Bludgers in your head. Now?


**AN: Haven't written in a while, have I? Ah, it was just the usual, too lazy to write sort of thing. Been doing a lot of reading, though. But whatever, you didn't visit this page to hear about my boring life. You came to read! Yay! Very nice of you to give this a chance. This is my first Rose/Scorpius fic so I haven't got used to writing them just yet. ****It's one of those **_**Rose gets Sorted into Slytherin**_** fics. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling does.**

"_If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure." – Ron Weasley_

**Roasting Marshmallows**

"SLYTHERIN!"

The eerie silence that followed the Sorting Hat's proclamation was unbearable. She was sitting as though Petrified on the stool, her eyes staring unblinkingly at the inside of the hat. She could not see anything but blackness, but she felt eyes boring into her from every direction. Professor Flitwick, who had been calling their names off a long roll of parchment, gave a startled squeak, and as though taking this as a signal that it was again all right to speak, whispers broke out like wild hisses, bouncing off the walls of the Great Hall.

"Slytherin?"

"A _Weasley_! In Slytherin!"

"Is it possible?"

"Bet you all the gold in Gringotts her dad's not gonna like that,"

"Miss Weasley," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Miss Weasley," he took the Sorting Hat from her head and it was like being plunged face first into a body of icy water. She vaguely thought of snatching the hat back and shoving it over her whole face to shield herself from the penetrating stares and staying there for the rest of the year, never mind those few who had not yet been Sorted. She squashed those thoughts away and looked at Professor Flitwick who was making quite an effort to usher her towards her new House table.

Her feet shaking, she stepped off the platform and inconspicuously made her way toward the Slytherin table. Well, about as inconspicuous as you can get with barrels of eyes following your every step. She took a seat beside one first year with wavy blonde hair that surpassed her shoulders by a few inches, who she remembered was named Matilda Lachlan.

"Matilda Lachlan," the girl smiled, offering her hand. "You can call me Tilly, though. Everyone else does,"

She nodded at her, feeling a bit embarrassed of how sweaty her palms were and making way to wipe her hands on her robes before accepting her handshake. "Rose Weasley," she said in a quavering voice.

She looked around her and saw the peering faces of everyone in the hall, some tried to hide their interest, some were openly gaping at her with their mouths wide open, and some just looked as though they were too hungry and looking forward to the feast to care about anything else. She shrunk in her seat, trying to make herself look small enough to be invisible and caught the eye of her cousin, Albus, sitting at the Gryffindor table, who gave her an encouraging smile before turning back to the Sorting. Only two more first years remained, and they were Sorted into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

As the last of the applause died, Professor Flitwick set aside the stool and the Sorting Hat and Headmistress McGonagall stood up from her seat at the head of the teachers' table. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she smiled warmly. "Before we begin, the first years, please note, that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students, the use of magic in the corridors in between classes is highly discouraged, there will be no wandering the corridors at night, and those wishing to try out for this year's Quidditch teams—" there was a great amount of excited whispers around this, "—may do so by approaching their House's appointed captains for scheduling information. Your class timetables will be handed to you tomorrow by Professor Flitwick at breakfast. That will be all," she paused for a moment, and then said, "Let the feast begin!"

All at once, different sorts of delicacies—from stacks of perfectly bronze fried sausages, roast potatoes and lamb chops to silver boats of the richest gravy—appeared before her, covering the long table from end to end, making her mouth water hard enough to momentarily distract her from her doubts about being Sorted into Slytherin. All around her, students were already wolfing down their dinners as though it were the last meal they would ever have and she decided to do the same—though with not as much fervour and with a tad more poise.

It was in the middle of a particularly good chocolate éclair during dessert when she was already feeling warm and sleepy that she felt somebody's eyes on her. Not the confused and interested eyes that everyone had given her after her Sorting, but something different. She looked up and came eye to eye with a boy about her year, with white-blonde hair, a pointed look in his face, a pale complexion, and the greatest shade of grey eyes she had ever seen. He was sitting a few feet up the Slytherin table, his chin in his hand, studying her with the most peculiar stare. It had the look of speculation that everybody else had, but beneath that, he seemed almost… smug. It was the most curious way to be looked at after a rather odd evening. Though as quickly as it had started, he looked away, shoving a slice of what looked like custard tart in his mouth and starting a conversation with a dark-haired boy sitting beside him.

"Trifle?" offered Tilly, holding out a small plate of cake covered in layers of whipped cream, urging Rose to turn her gaze away from the grey-eyed boy.

"Oh, thank you," smiled Rose. As she accepted the plate and dug into it with her fork, she could not help feeling the same grey eyes fixing upon her for the second time that night.

* * * * * * *

Moments later found Rose in her four-poster bed in the first year girls' dormitory, wide awake and staring at the green glow of the lamplights through the crack that the curtains of her bed made. Tilly had already gone to bed, so had the other occupants of the dormitory, and she was left alone, tossing and turning in her bed, waiting for sleep to overcome her. She turned and found herself staring at the stone ceiling, reliving the evening's events. _"SLYTHERIN!" _the Sorting Hat had declared. How could this have happened? Perhaps the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. All her family and ancestors had been in Gryffindor for centuries, for Merlin's sake! Her cousins, uncles, aunts, her mum, her dad… she sat bolt upright. Her dad…

"_If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you,"_

Oh, bugger.

She hadn't actually believed that her father would turf her out of the family and leave her off on her own, mostly because when she had stepped through the barrier to Platform 9¾, she had been fairly confident that she would be Sorted into Gryffindor. But her father's words seemed more real than ever now that she had, in fact, been shunned from Gryffindor and had landed in where else but Slytherin. She wondered what would be their reaction once they found out, wondered if she ought to start repacking her trunk when her father utters the words, 'Rose Weasley' and 'disinherited' in one sentence. If not, she was at least expecting a Howler first thing tomorrow. It would be horrible, not to mention unbearably humiliating especially in front of the entire school, but at least she would not be called Rose without-a-last-name-because-her-family-disinherited-her-for-being-in-Slytherin.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she kicked off the covers and put her robes on before quietly slipping through the door and into the Slytherin common room. She stopped when she noticed the silhouette of a male figure perched on one of the silver leather armchairs on the other side of the room but ignored whoever it was (she would not bother him if he did not bother her) as she made her way across the room and sat cross-legged on the hearthrug, watching the green flames trickle in the air and wallowing in the warmth of it.

Her eyes widened when the flames flickered a familiar shade of grey for a fraction of a second and suddenly her thoughts dragged her to the grey-eyed boy from the Slytherin table. He was probably tucked away in bed right now, snoring the night away and awaiting the first day of class like everyone else. But that fact did not make her feel less curious about him. Why was he looking at her like that? Or better yet, why was he looking at her _at all_? For all she knew, she had never met the boy, never even seen him before, so why was he looking at her like _he_ knew _her_? And that look of smug satisfaction on his face! What the Snitch was that all about?

A sudden shuffling of cotton against leather and the sound of socked footsteps nearing her brought her out of her musings and she looked up. She couldn't help the slight tinge of pink that coloured her face and ears upon seeing of the object of her scrutiny. She stared. His grey eyes just refused to leave her alone.

"D'you mind if I sit here?" he looked pointedly at the spot on the hearthrug next to her.

Feeling a cold draft in her tongue, she realised she was gawking open-mouthed up at the boy, eyes wide as a house-elf, and quickly blinked and closed her mouth. She nodded mutely at him and scooted to give him space. She watched as he grabbed a poker leaning on the stone wall of the fireplace and took out, from the inside of his robes, a rather large container filled with marshmallows the size of walnuts before using the poker to stick them in the fire—one marshmallow after the other. Soon, there was a mountain of roasted marshmallows piled together on a plate (which he had also taken out from the inside of his robes—Rose wondered how much room his robes had until she realised that it was probably charmed to carry a number of items that normal robes would not be able to) and they were both staring at it.

He took one and shoved it in his mouth before pushing the plate towards her, "Take some," when she hesitated, he rolled his eyes and pushed it to her further. "Go on, they don't have anything in them that's not supposed to be there. Look, I'm eating them, see?" he shoved another one in his mouth.

Rose blinked and slowly took one before taking a bite at it. It was still hot from the fire and it burned her tongue a bit, but it did not seem as though she would convulse and turn into a Skrewt in a few seconds. She finished it and took another one.

"Where did you get all of this?" she asked, gesturing to the pile of marshmallows.

He surprised her by giving her a triumphant smile. "Gordon took them from the feast. These are only leftovers, actually. He ate most of them, Gordon. You know him, don't you? Gordon Goyle?"

She assumed he was the dark-haired boy he was speaking to during dinner earlier, but shook her head nonetheless. "I haven't met that many people yet. I've only met one person so far, Matilda Lachlan, one of my dorm mates. Everyone else seems to shy away from me,"

He let out a dry chuckle. "Can't imagine why," she did not miss the sarcasm in his words, and it only made her feel even more unwelcome in the House. She sighed and kept silent.

They sat in comfortable silence for a fair few minutes, chewing on the roasted marshmallows which were slowly degrading. The only sound that could be heard was the trickling and soft popping sounds of the firewood. And then Rose wondered. Was he trying to be friends with her? If he was, she thought it must be because he had noticed that she did not have many friends and was only pitying her. It seemed very unlikely that he would try to gain her friendship for other reasons because nobody else was making the effort. But then again, there was something different about him. And he was staring at her at the feast.

"You were staring at me at the feast," she voiced her thoughts without warning, and almost smacked herself silly for being so blunt about it.

He seemed taken aback by her remark but eased up and took another marshmallow before saying, "You noticed,"

It was a statement, not a question, Rose observed. He must have noticed her staring back at him. She nodded. "And…" she began unsurely.

"And what?"

"And… why did you look—" she paused and tore her gaze away from the pile of marshmallows to look at him with a questioning look, "—smug?" And then she rambled on before she could control herself. "I just noticed, but I mean, it could have very well been my imagination, though I've always had very keen observation like my mum, according to dad, so I'm not sure what to believe. My cousin Albus thinks so, too, but then what does he know? I could have the observation of a Flobberworm, for all I kn—"

"You noticed that, too, didn't you?" he smirked. "I didn't think you would,"

So Rose was right, and all the rambling she did was useless. "Oh," and then she asked again, "So why?"

He smiled triumphantly again before answering her. "Gordon and I made a bet, you see, on the train," he said. "I told him either you or Potter or both, would be Sorted into Slytherin, but he disagreed. He said the both of you were too deep in your families to be away from Gryffindor. But then the hat put _you_ in Slytherin. Thanks for that, by the way. I earned a Galleon my first night at Hogwarts. Father would be proud," he took out a Galleon from the pocket of his robes and tossed it in the air.

She knew she ought to be irked that somebody would use her for gold, but she had a strong feeling that he was not being _completely_ truthful about it at all and it made her more curious than furious, though she did not think it was a good idea to push it out of him. She didn't want to pry, especially since they did not even know each other all that well. Come to think about it, she didn't even know what his name was.

"Scorpius Malfoy, by the way," he said as though reading her mind. He extended his hand.

Rose took it gladly albeit cautiously and smiled. "Rose Weasley,"

And then his name sunk in. "Malfoy? So your father is—"

"Draco Malfoy," said Scorpius. "And your father is Ronald Weasley, your mother is Hermione Weasley, and you're the niece of Harry and Ginny Potter. Father and I saw you all at King's Cross earlier today,"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Have you been following me all my life?"

He chuckled. "I don't need to follow you around for eleven years to know who you are. Everyone knows you. Everyone related to Harry Potter's not a new face to the Wizarding world. Or didn't you know?"

"Of course I knew," scoffed Rose with an airy atmosphere that would remind a lot of people of her mother.

Scorpius chuckled again. "So have you told your parents?"

"Told my parents what?"

"That you're in Slytherin,"

"I'm sure they've already heard," said Rose. "And my dad's probably panicking 'round the house as we speak. Next he'll be at the Ministry signing a disinheritance letter with my name on it," she crossed her arms over her chest, staring resentfully at the fire.

"A disinheritance letter?"

She nodded. "Yes, a disinheritance letter. Before I got on the Hogwarts Express today he told me—" she lowered her voice in a moot attempt to imitate her father's voice, "—_'if you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you,' _so I might as well start packing now. Maybe I could live with Uncle Harry. He was always so much more reasonable. Instead of threatening Albus about staying away from Slytherin, d'you know what he said to him? He said, _'Albus Severus, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew,' _fat lot of use that was for Albus though. He got into Gryffindor," she grumbled, grabbing another marshmallow from the plate and shoving the whole thing in her mouth. In her state of annoyance, she hadn't noticed Scorpius laughing beside her as though there was something amusing standing behind her.

She ignored him and went to grab another marshmallow when her fist closed in on air. She looked down and realised that the plate was empty.

"We're out of marshmallows,"

Scorpius stilled himself long enough to see her staring dejectedly at the empty plate. "Oh," he said. "We are, aren't we?" And to Rose's surprise, he reached into his robes and pulled out another container, bigger this time, filled with marshmallows. He grinned at her.

"I thought you said Goyle ate all of it," said Rose, though she fought the smile that was slowly creeping upon her face.

He wagged his finger at her, getting two pokers and handing one over to her. "I said Goyle took them from the feast and ate most of it. _I_ got _these_ myself," he stuck a marshmallow into the fire. "And don't worry about your dad. He's not about to disinherit you for being in Slytherin. He should be happy about it, in fact,"

"Why?"

"Well, let's be honest," said Scorpius, turning his gaze off the fire and grinning at her. "Most Gryffindors are usually too worried and boring to take marshmallows from the feast so they could roast them for a good grub in the common room later,"

Rose grinned back, grabbing one cold marshmallow and sticking it in the fire. They sat in silence for a while, engulfed in the warmth and comfort of the Slytherin common room that Rose had not appreciated earlier on, roasting marshmallows in the green flames of the hearth. If, a little while ago, say, on the train, you had told Rose Weasley that she would be sitting on the floor of the Slytherin common room in the middle of the night, roasting marshmallows with the son of Draco Malfoy, she would have laughed in your face and told you that you had Wrackspurts the size of Bludgers floating in your head.

Now, it didn't seem too bad of an idea.

"But tell me, Scorpius," said Rose. "What if my dad _did_ disinherit me?"

**AN: As for the _other_ reason why Scorpius had a smug look on his face, well, let's leave that to your imagination****, shall we? I'm sure you'll come up with loads of explanations. Lemme know what you think, will you? :)**


End file.
